


All I Need

by monchy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire
Genre: Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-25
Updated: 2012-06-25
Packaged: 2017-11-08 12:40:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/443295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monchy/pseuds/monchy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been years since they saw each other, and when they finally do, it's in a sunny alcove in some unknown palace in the south. Stannis is king now, and Jon doesn't know what he is anymore. </p><p>For gameofships over at LJ.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Need

It's been years since they saw each other, and when they finally do, it's in a sunny alcove in some unknown palace in the south. Stannis is king now, and Jon doesn't know what he is anymore. What he knows is that he was a child when Stannis left the wall, too wrapped up in a world that had turned upside down around him to do anything about the burning need under his skin.  
  
Stannis isn't surprised when Jon takes two long steps towards him and grabs his face between callused hands. He'd thought him dead, lost somewhere in a winter's storm. He's not, though, so Jon kisses him. His tongue curls lazily around the new king's, and somewhere his mind registers that this could be considered treason. But he's been fighting for so long, alone for so long, and Stannis is kissing back. Stannis, with his pride and his quietness and his sternness is kissing him.  
  
They come closer together and Jon has to lean back just to adjust himself, to stay _closecloseclose_. Stannis brings his arms around Jon, searches for skin. He finds his hips and digs his hands in hard enough to hurt, sweaty fingers finding anchor and not letting go. Jon doesn't stop kissing him, can't stop himself from licking and biting in a way that feels almost familiar, even when he's never kissed Stannis before.  
  
Stannis tastes of blood, smells of blood. The battle has been over for the shortest of times, and they're still fresh from it, desperate and hard not just from the contact but from the fear of the fight. Stannis moves away then, holds Jon's face between his hands when Jon tries to look for his lips again. He looks at him, searches his eyes for a second before leaning back in and pressing a kiss to Jon's neck. The kiss becomes a bite, and Jon hisses.  
  
They don't quite manage to disrobe each other in their path to the bed, but it's enough that Jon can taste Stannis' skin, smooth in places, filled with battle scars in others, always warm and sweaty in this southern heat. Jon thinks he could stand this weather if only he keeps touching Stannis' skin forever. He hears a groan when he kisses Stannis' navel, and stops just a second to marvel at the contradiction of this man, a king, lord and commander, and also nothing but warm flesh under his hands.  
  
Jon's skin is wet with sweat and blood, and Stannis' hands slide clumsily over it when he drags Jon up and pushes him back against the bed. He's tracing Jon's muscles, and Jon wonders if there are new ones, just as there are new scars. He can't focus long enough to ask, though, not when he's feeling light-headed and so stupidly hard at the same time.  
  
Stannis' hips rock against his own, and Jon moans loud, free. Their cocks are not touching, and Jon puts his hands at work to solve that. He wants to feel Stannis' skin, all of it, and by the time he manages to shove their smallclothes halfway down their thighs he's breathing heavily. Stannis kisses him messily, and Jon wants to laugh at the lack of precision in this wonderfully rigid man.  
  
Jon pushes his hips up, and they're rutting like animals. Stannis' hands caress the outside of his thighs, his tongue gliding down his throat. Jon's on fire, warmer than he's ever been in all his life. He searches for one of Stannis' hands, curls his fingers around it and holds on. For a moment, the past long, hard years fade into a blurry and ugly memory, something that happened to someone else. Jon feels ready to burst open, and he takes a moment to slide his hand down Stannis' cheek, along his jaw, over his reddened lips. Stannis bites a finger, and then kisses his mouth.  
  
Jon wants to stay in the moment, he wants to stop and at the same time he wants this to be harder, faster, deeper. He wraps one leg around the back of one of Stannis' own, brings it up to his waist and pulls him down. The movement is slower now, more unsteady, but all of Stannis' skin is against his own, his chest moving up and down with his ragged breathing and his cock rubbing fast against his hip.  
  
It's over far too soon, but it doesn't matter, because Stannis keeps kissing him even with come, blood and sweat between them. He doesn't move his lips away, kissing him and crushing him against the mattress. For the first time in his life, Jon feels as if everything is just how it's supposed to be. His king is here, flesh and blood, and if Jon has ever needed something in his life then it was nothing more than this.  
  
Jon holds on, hands tight around Stannis' arms, fingers sweaty. He's never letting go.


End file.
